I’m stuffing grapes into my mouth while I’m complaining as usual. Maria Jose sent me a text from Ronald Sukenick intended to shut up my whining and bear in mind that there will always be someone more miserable than you, or than me. At the end of the day life if hard, even for us with all our multiple options (or just the idea of having them, which I’m starting to believe that they are as the backdrop of a theater play, great landscapes but unreal). I’m getting my hand into the zip-lock bag to get the green grapes that are way below the red ones. I don’t like red grapes with seeds, although my mother says seeds are good for the skin.